


Solidarity Forever (Don't Mean Just Sometimes)

by aaronburrlesque



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M, Occupy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 02:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaronburrlesque/pseuds/aaronburrlesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>X-Men: First Class, Occupy Wall Street AU. Charles Xavier is a wealthy political theorist standing in solidarity and action with the Occupy Wall Street movement. Erik Lensherr is a direct action-focused anarchist who "doesn't throw bricks at bank windows, but has some respect for those who do". Human-verse, movie mutants all are on the OWS Tactical Working Group together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solidarity Forever (Don't Mean Just Sometimes)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! I'm pretty (read: ridiculously) excited to finally be giving birth to my long term brainchild, and finally contributing to my much-beloved First Class fandom. I'd like to thank my best friend and beta Indy for all hir help and support, and welcome you all to comment or message me on tumblr (I'm aaronburrlesque there too!) with any additional feedback. My title comes from the amazing riot folk musician Evan Greer's "Picketline Song"- I suggest you all give hir a listen! If you're interested in learning more about any of the concepts brought up in this fic, I'll be including some brief footnotes- just look for the superscript, and check the bottom of the page for more info.
> 
> Love, thanks, and of course solidarity,  
> Stephanie

“Mic check--” “Mic check!”1

Announcements great and small filled the air, jumbled voices mixing in with the smell of sweat, exhaust, and some sort of make-shift stir-fry from the cooking tent. The sun was high, and the wind was as crisp as winter could make it considering the mitigating factors of big city smog. Tents of all shapes, sizes, and purposes could be seen if one was at the right angle, a miniature city best viewed from the office windows of the very corporations against which it mobilized.

“Occupy Wall Street”- an occupation lacking in tanks or colonial ideology, but one that certainly knew how to take up space. The exact numbers of so-called occupiers depended on the day, and your preferred media source, and the exact goals depend on who you ask and how loud they’re capable of speaking.

“Mic check--” “Mic check!” “Occupy the patriarchy-” “Occupy the patriarchy!” “Will be hosting a safe space discussion on sexism in radical circles”...2

One voice turned to a hundred at least, repeating announcements in unison with only a few dissenters grumbling (though that, as most things seemed to, also depended.) Of course, some dissenters “grumbled” louder than others.

Charles Xavier had learned by this point to use the human microphone sparingly. In a tent held up by bookshelves and oversized paperweights he, a clean-shaven professor in tweed, was acknowledgedly out of place. Charles was a man of ideals made into intellect, the sort that could often be found reading anarchist political theory…in the comfort of his Westchester tudor.

 “The fuck is that, Starbucks?

It was fair trade, though Charles realized that was hardly relevant. He had held this argument before, though not with the _particular_ scruffed up punk standing before him. Where had this kid- no, not a kid, around Charles’ age at least (far too old for this sort of get up) even come from? Nonetheless, the guilt had begun to fade as the discourse became routine. “Me giving up a cup of coffee will not bring peace, my friend.”

“Revolution’s really more my style-- and I’m _not_ your friend.”

Charles looked over as the man grabbed a zine from the shelf, signing it out “for indefinite use”. Even without “The Black and Red Reader”3, his toothy scowl expressed well enough his feelings towards this-or-any sort of “simple protocol”. Charles scanned his title, and with a chuckle, braved a quip towards the man before he could live this so-called Occupy Library.

“Let me guess- _comrade,_ then?”

“Erik.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) "Mic Check" is the call and response opening for the use of the human microphone, a tactic used widely for announcements within OWS-style protest "occupations". It's an egalitarian method of awareness spreading, where you can use the _literal_ power of the people to spread your message through the crowds- that is, if they're willing to repeat what you have to say.
> 
> 2) If you have an interest, any interest _at all_ in sexism (or any sort of oppression) within activist circles, drop me a message at my social justice tumblr loveasaradicalact. I would be way more than happy (ecstatic, actually) to talk to you about it.
> 
> 3) Black and red are the colors of the anarcho-communist, anarcho-socialist, and all other forms of leftist anarchist flags. Black represents statelessness and the lack of political hierarchy; red represents anti-capitalism and the lack of economic hierarchy. Most of the Wall Street occupiers that identify as anarchists are this kind (full bias disclosure: so is your author). The Black and Red Reader is a fictional zine (independent, low-budget magazine) dedicated to anarchy by this definition.


End file.
